Calm Before the Storm
by Brandon
Summary: Post ep for Rain King


TITLE: Calm Before the Storm   
SPOILER WARNING: Beyond the Sea; The End; FTF; Rain King   
RATING: PG for language   
CONTENT WARNING: A few bad words.   
CLASSIFICATION: VA   
SUMMARY: Post-ep for "Rain King". Mulder POV.   
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is based on the premise suggested in ATXC by Lynx Mulderite, who proposed that the main action in "Rain King" occurred in August of 1998, just before the events in FTF. I am also indebted to Shannon O'Connor, who provided me with a transcript of one of the key scenes from "Rain King".   


Calm Before the Storm 

by Brandon D. Ray   


Mulder hadn't been in Casey's in months, and he wasn't sure why he was there tonight. But with the X-Files not just closed but literally in ashes, and with his own career -- not to mention Scully's -- twisting slowly in the breeze, there didn't seem to be much of anyplace else to go. 

It had been a real roller coaster ride the past ten days. First there had been the shock of seeing Diana again, and trying to work out what, if anything, he still felt towards her. Then had come the Gibson Praise case: his growing suspicion of Spender's motives and associations; the mounting excitement as he realized he might actually be closing in on the missing link in his investigations; the shock and fear when he heard that an agent had been shot; the strange and shameful sense of relief when he learned it was Diana rather than Scully who lay near death in the intensive care unit; the frustration of having key evidence snatched away from him yet again; and then the final blow with the burning of the X-Files. 

Mulder had tried to carry on despite these losses; he'd tried to pretend that nothing had changed. When that sheriff from Kroner, Kansas had called, with his bizarre story of a local man who the sheriff suspected was deliberately causing a drought in order to create a market for his rain making abilities, Mulder had jumped at the chance to grab Scully and go racing off to the middle of nowhere, just like the old days. Anything to get out of Washington for awhile. Anything so he wouldn't have to confront his own fears and self-doubts. 

But even that had turned out to be a bust. Oh, they had solved the case, and much to Mulder's surprise Scully had even seemed to accept his explanation of what was going on. But somehow, standing there next to her in the high school gym, watching all the happy couples dancing in each other's arms, Mulder had felt lost and incomplete, as if something vital was still missing. 

And he'd be damned if he could figure out what it was. 

"You want another?" 

Mulder glanced up at the bartender and nodded in resignation, then watched silently as the man scooped some ice into a glass and poured club soda over it before finally shoving the glass across the counter. Mulder picked it up and took a sip, then set it back down again as the bartender moved away. 

And just how pathetic was THAT? He couldn't even drink properly. Most people, when they got into such a funk they couldn't stand to be around themselves, they'd start hitting the hard stuff. But not good old Spooky Mulder; HE just sat there knocking back club soda -- on the rocks -- and feeling sorry for himself. 

"Is this seat taken?" 

Mulder started slightly at the old, familiar line, and turned to see a man in a Navy uniform standing next to him. The man was young, perhaps 25 or 26, and there was a sparkle in his eye and a slight smile on his face. He looked vaguely familiar, but Mulder couldn't quite place the face. 

Mulder glanced down the counter at all the empty barstools, then looked back at the sailor and shrugged. "Help yourself," he said. 

The other man nodded in apparent gratitude and sat down on the stool next to Mulder's. "Thanks," he said. "I've been on my feet all day, and it's nice to be able to take the load off for a little bit." He signaled to the bartender. "Club soda, please. Neat." 

Mulder raised his eyebrows as the sailor looked back at him. "Can't drink while I'm in uniform," the man explained. "Against regulations. Besides, I ship out in a few hours, and I can't very well report for duty with liquor on my breath." He waited while the bartender slid a glass across the counter to him. "Besides," he went on as the bartender walked away, "I don't drink that much, anyway. It dulls the senses." He lifted his glass in Mulder's direction. "Cheers!" 

"Cheers," Mulder echoed, automatically raising his own glass slightly and then taking another sip. As he did so, the sailor took a healthy drink from his own glass, then set it down on the counter with a sigh of contentment. 

"That really hit the spot," the younger man said. For a moment he looked at Mulder speculatively. "You know, I don't remember seeing you in here before, and I'm something of a regular -- at least when my ship's in port." 

Mulder shrugged slightly. "I don't come in here all that often. I don't drink much myself." For some reason he couldn't quite define Mulder felt a need to explain himself to this man, and he held up his glass. "This is just club soda, same as yours." 

The sailor nodded wisely. "I thought so. I can always spot a kindred spirit. That's why I decided to sit next to you." He took another drink from his own glass. "So if you don't come here all that often, what brings you in tonight? Woman trouble?" 

Mulder hesitated, then shook his head. "Not as such," he replied. Suddenly he felt things bubbling up inside that he hadn't even realized he'd been feeling. "Before you can have woman trouble, doesn't there have to be a woman?" He was surprised at the bitterness he heard in his own voice. 

The younger man barked a short laugh. "You got that one right. Although I'll be damned if sometimes the LACK of a woman doesn't cause more trouble than otherwise. Pardon the language." He took another drink, and signaled the bartender for a refill. 

The conversation seemed to have come to an end, and for a few minutes the two men sat side by side, looking into their drinks. Mulder felt a comfortable sense of companionship which he seldom achieved with anyone but Scully, and for a moment he just basked in the unaccustomed feeling and let his troubles drift away from him. 

"It is a woman, though, isn't it?" 

Mulder started slightly, and turned to see that the sailor was now looking at him intently. For an instant he was taken aback by the directness of the man's gaze, but something about the other's demeanor seemed to invite -- even demand -- honesty. At last, he nodded. 

"I thought so. I can always tell." The other man continued to stare at him, and Mulder had the uncomfortable feeling that the sailor was looking right down into his soul. Finally, very softly: "You should just tell her." 

Mulder hesitated, then shook his head. "It's not that easy." 

"Why not?" The man's gaze, direct and unblinking, continued to bore into Mulder's eyes. 

Mulder hesitated again, trying to find the words. "Because it isn't," he said. "There's so much history between us; so much...pain. Unhappiness." Still he was struggling with the words. "We've both already lost so much, it seems as if all we've got left now is each other. And I don't dare risk losing that; it would destroy both of us." 

The sailor nodded soberly. "I hear you, and I can see where that would be pretty frightening. But all the same, you have to tell her. You can't let it go on the way it's been going." He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "There's a storm coming, and it's coming soon. All you can do is turn the prow into the wind and hold on to each other for dear life, so that neither of you is swept overboard." 

Mulder blinked at the image the man's words evoked. "A storm?" 

The other man nodded again. "A storm; a typhoon; a hurricane. Everything's going to be uprooted, and there's no telling how or when it will all be set right again. But if you hang on to each other, if you hold on as tight as you possibly can, at least the two of you will come out alright in the end. You'll weather the storm." 

Mulder sat staring at the sailor for a pair of minutes. At last, he said, "But...but how..." He let his voice trail off; again he was struggling to find the words. He tried again. "How will I know when it's time?" 

"You'll know," the younger man replied. "You'll know." He seemed to study Mulder's face for a minute. Then: "Let me tell you how it was for me. Maybe that'll help." He took a sip from his club soda. "I'd been out at sea on a long voyage. I'd been seeing this girl for awhile, and I really missed her. You know?" 

He paused, and Mulder nodded. 

"It wasn't just any cruise, though; this was during a time of crisis. And let me tell you, if the folks at home were scared, those of us on the front line were about ten times as scared." He smiled slightly. "Although I'm likely to get busted down to Seaman First for admitting THAT." He took another drink. "So finally things wound down, and we were relieved by another ship and we made our way back to port. 

"I'd been expecting to see her when I came ashore, of course. We had an understanding, and things had been progressing nicely. But what I DIDN'T expect was that she was waiting on the dock for me." A slow smile spread across the sailor's face. "And let me tell you, that was the best surprise I've ever had in my life, just to see her standing there, waiting, with a big, happy smile on her face. You ever have anything like that happen to you?" 

Mulder hesitated, then shook his head. He'd had a lot of surprises in his life, but almost none of them had been pleasant. He didn't want to say that, though; it seemed too damned self-pitying. Instead, he said, "But my situation is different." 

"Every situation is different," the sailor replied still smiling. "But you have to let me finish my story before you start shooting holes in it." He took another drink. "So I walked down the gangway, and there she was. I'll never forget that moment; it was such an epiphany. Only a few days before I'd been sure we were all going to die, and that even if we got through it somehow we'd get back to the States and everyone we'd left behind would be dead. And there she was, standing in front of me, alive and happy and whole. And I just couldn't stop myself; I swept her up in my arms and asked her to marry me, then and there. I knew I couldn't wait another hour; not another minute. It was like someone had thrown a switch or something. And she said yes. And the rest is history." And he took another long drink of club soda. 

Mulder sat in silence for a moment, wanting to be sure the other man was finished. Finally, he shook his head again. "I...I'm glad everything worked out for you and your girl. Your wife. But it really is different for me and my...friend." 

"Different how?" The man's tone was curious rather than challenging. 

"That's hard to explain." Mulder thought about it for a moment. It really was different, wasn't it? He and Scully didn't think about each other that way; it wasn't that sort of a relationship. He said, "We're not...involved in that way. We work together. We're partners; friends." The other man seemed to be about to speak, but Mulder hastened on. "Don't get me wrong. She's terribly important to me. She completes me and grounds me; she makes me a whole person. I don't know what I'd do without her." He shook his head helplessly. "But the other thing...it's just not there." 

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?" The sailor shook his head. "Never mind. The important thing is that the friendship is there. It's always seemed to me that the BEST relationships -- the ones that last -- are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever   
imagine yourself with." He smiled ruefully. "At least, that's the way it was with me and my girl. We were friends long before we ever became lovers." 

Mulder nodded slowly. What the man was saying made sense; it made a lot of sense. Still, there were so many barriers -- 

"As for when," the sailor said, cutting off Mulder's thought, "all I can say is that you'll know." Again he looked intently into Mulder's eyes. "You'll be together. It will be an emotional moment, a moment of crisis. And you'll just know and the words will be there and you'll say them and they'll be the truth." 

"The truth shall make you free?" Mulder couldn't keep the irony out of his voice. 

The other man shook his head. "That's just a bunch of sentimental bullshit," he said. "Pardon the language again. You have to set yourself free. But the truth WILL save you. I think it will save both of you." He slid off his stool and placed a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Take care of her, Mr. Mulder; you're all she's got now. I'd do it myself if I could, but I can't. And remember....there's a storm coming." And with that he was gone. 

"You want another?" 

Mulder started, and turned to see the bartender standing on the other side of the counter. He considered the question for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I guess not. I should be getting home." He fished in his pocket and pulled out a ten. "Keep the change." He slid off his stool and headed for the exit. 

He had just reached the door when his cell phone shrilled. He pulled it from his pocket and punched the CONNECT button. "Mulder." 

"Mulder, it's me." He couldn't help but smile at hearing her voice speaking the old, familiar words. 

"Yeah, Scully." 

"I just had a call from Skinner, and we've got to get to Dallas ASAP." 

"Dallas? Why? What's going on?" He felt an unexplained chill race down his spine. For just an instant he was afraid, and he wanted to grab Scully and run as fast and as far as he could. 

"There's a situation down there, and they need every agent they can get. How soon can you get to Washington National? Our flight's in ninety minutes." 

Mulder glanced at his watch. "Not a problem. I'll meet you there." He pulled open the door and stepped outside. The street was dark and quiet, almost preternaturally calm, and the sky was overcast. "Oh, and Scully?" 

"Yes?" 

"Better wear something warm. There's a storm coming."   
  


Fini   


END NOTE: I've never quite understood how M&S got to Dallas in time to help hunt for the bomb in FTF. Here I assume that there was something going on prior to the bomb threat which caused Skinner to send them. Hope it works. 


End file.
